broken like me
by thejuicebandit
Summary: Spider-Man wakes up in the soul world and begins to rely on Bucky Barnes for both physical and emotional support. As their friendship grows, so does Bucky's fear, for there is one thing he hopes Peter never learns. OR: A post-infinity war fic about Peter Parker, who, when looking for someone to fill a gap, finds none other than the Winter Soldier.
1. chapter 1: the soul world

Blurry.

Everything was blurry.

And kind of orangish. A warm orangish tint washed over everything in sight.

But most noticeably, everything hurt.

He was lying on something beige. What was he lying on? It was firm but comfortable. Most of all it was warm. Warm and comforting, like a hug. He vaguely wondered what it was.

But then the pain was too much.

And once again, he was gone.

* * *

 _A sensation began in his fingertips, slowly spreading to the rest of his body._

 _At first it felt like a harsh tingle, like a much more intense version of the feeling he got when his foot fell asleep._

 _Then it became progressively worse, feeling like a thousand needles were being shoved into his skin all at once._

 _Then it was a million knives, all tearing at his skin, fighting over him, all trying to take him away. And he didn't want them to take him. He didn't want to go. Not yet._

 _He was shaking all over. And it hurt to move. It hurt to stand still. It hurt._

 _Peter felt like every molecule of his body was being torn apart, and he tried so hard to stop it but it was too much. It was all too much._

 _"Mr. Stark?" He gasped, barely able to get air into his already-disintegrating lungs. "I don't feel so good." It was a harsh understatement. But he was Spider-Man. He had to be strong. Especially in front of Mr. Stark. He didn't want to seem like nothing but a kid again._

 _But then the pain doubled. It took all of his willpower to not fall onto the ground._

 _Mr. Stark looked over at him, a look of terror and disbelief in his eyes. After a moment's hesitation, he forced out the words "you're alright."_

 _Peter stumbled forward. "I don't- I don't know what's happening—" there was ash all around him now and the worst part was that it was coming from him. The edges of his fingers were crumbling away now and all he could register was fear and pain. He stumbled forward and fell and Mr. Stark caught him._

 _And that was some sort of solace to him._

 _Maybe Mr. Stark could save him. But even as he tried to grasp the iron suit, his mentor's comforting embrace began to drift away too. He tried to hold on but he couldn't and he was so scared now because he didn't want to die yet_

 _And maybe if he held on, he would stay_

 _Maybe if he held on tight then he wouldn't crumble to ash_

 _Maybe Mr. Stark could save him_

 _But then his legs gave out and he couldn't stand anymore_

 _With every second that passed, he was fading._

 _With every second that passed, more and more of his body subsided, leaving behind only dust, only the shallow feeling of emptiness._

 _"I don't wanna go."_

 _And Peter was crying now but he couldn't stop it and he couldn't stop himself from falling away into dust._

 _"I don't wanna go."_

 _Peter knew that he was dying. And the mere thought of death suddenly petrified him. All the times before when he had come so close to death didn't seem real in comparison because now he was here, at Death's doorstep, and all he wanted was to go back, to turn around, but he knew that he couldn't._

 _"Mr. Stark, please."_

 _He held on tighter, hoping maybe that even if he couldn't save himself that maybe Iron Man could save him, because Iron Man could do anything, right? But as Spider-Man slipped away, he knew deep down that it was hopeless._

 _"Please, I don't wanna go."_

 _Death slipped its cold hands around Peter's throat and was choking him and he just wanted it to go away._

 _He just wanted to live._

 _Was that really too much to ask for?_

 _Please, Mr. Stark. Save me. I don't want to die yet. I'm too young to die._

 _"I don't wanna go."_

 _And then he fell._

 _He was so dizzy._

 _He was so scared._

 _And everything hurt so much._

 _Too much._

 _It was all too much._

 _Mr. Stark set him on the ground, a hand placed firmly on his right shoulder which was slowly crumbling away with the rest of him._

 _And Peter tried to raise his other hand but it was shaking and then it was dust, it was gone._

 _He was fading._

 _He was dying._

 _And he didn't want to die. Not yet._

 _Not yet please not yet._

 _And Mr. Stark looked at him, his eyes clouded with fear and desperation but he couldn't say anything. His voice wasn't working. He was too scared. Don't die on me, kid. You have your whole life ahead of you. Don't die yet. Please don't go._

 _And suddenly Peter remembered what Mr. Stark had said to him that evening on the building._

 _"What if somebody had died tonight? Different story, right? Cause that's on you. And if you die, I feel like that's on me. And I don't need that on my conscience."_

 _But it wasn't Mr. Stark's fault. Because Peter knew that if Tony could do anything then he would. He could see the sheer terror in his face and the tears framing his eyes and he knew: he doesn't want me to go either._

 _But he also knew that Mr. Stark would blame himself. Peter knew what that was like. How could he help but feel responsible for Uncle Ben's death? Because he had seen it happen, he was right there, he felt like he could have done something. And even though he knew he couldn't have done anything he still felt like it was all his fault._

 _And he knew that Mr. Stark would feel the same way._

 _And nothing he could say would change that._

 _And he remembered earlier that day, when he had told Mr. Stark, "If anything, it's your fault I'm here."_

 _But he hadn't meant it. He wished he could take it back. God, he wished he could take it back but he couldn't. It was too late. It was said and it was done and now his life was done too and he knew Mr. Stark would blame himself and Peter was filled with remorse._

 _"I'm sorry," he choked out, and then that night came back to haunt him one more time: "Sorry doesn't cut it!" But before he could say anything else, Death yanked on him one final time and his body crumbled away and he gasped and tried to breathe he tried to breathe but he couldn't and he tried to stay because he didn't want to go but he couldn't do that either and then he was gone._

 _He was dust. He was just some specks floating in the air, reminding the cold dead planet that there was once a 16-year-old kid who didn't want to go but didn't have a choice._

 _And then he faded away with the breeze._

 _And he was just a memory._

Peter Parker woke up, gasping for breath, coughing and hyperventilating. He couldn't breathe and his heart was pounding and pounding in his eardrums and in his head and his head was throbbing.

And that pain that he had felt, the one that had overpowered his body as he died slowly, was still there. He was in so much pain. It never left. But it wasn't as bad anymore. It was kind of dulled. He could think again, since the pain was no longer so intense that it occupied his every thought. But it still hurt.

And everything was overwhelming. He didn't know what was happening. He didn't know where he was.

And then he felt a gentle hand on his shoulder.

And his breathing slowed to a steady pace. His heart ceased its pitiless pounding. The fuzziness clouding his brain was washed away.

He looked at the unfamiliar hand on his shoulder, thankful for its strong and reassuring grip.

"Hello, Peter," said a low, calm voice. He turned around.

Sitting behind him was an attractive man who looked to be in his 20s. His brown hair was about the length of Peter's, bangs hanging loosely on his forehead. He had a cleft chin and hidden eyelids and a gentle gaze.

"Who are you?" Peter asked.

"My name is Bucky Barnes. It's nice to meet you." He shook Peter's hand.

Peter then noticed the beige World War II soldier's uniform on the man's muscular torso. "Was I using you as a pillow?" Peter asked sheepishly. "I'm really really sorry i didn't mean to do that i just woke up there and i'm sorry and i—"

Bucky just smiled. "It's ok. I didn't mind."

Peter swallowed. "Your name sounds familiar."

Bucky's smile wavered a little but then he nodded. "I'm a friend of Captain America's. You must not recognize me without my metal arm."

Peter gasped. "That was you? Oh man, I'm so sorry for fighting you, I didn't know—"

"It's fine," Bucky said again. "You don't need to apologize." He took a deep breath. "I've done some things, in the past. I have so much regret, even though I couldn't control any of it. I guess that's why I'm younger now, in this soul world, or wherever we are. It's nice to be back in a time before I was broken."

Peter nodded. He understood. He understood what it was like to feel remorse for something he was not responsible for. He understood why Bucky wanted to go back to a simpler time. He understood Bucky's subconscious desperation to rid himself of that looming regret.

"Mr. Rogers told me about that. It wasn't your fault, but I understand what it feels like to feel responsibility for something uncontrollable. When my uncle died... I felt like it was my fault. Even though I knew — know — that I couldn't have done anything about it, I still feel like somehow i was responsible. Like I should have saved him, I shoulda been there, you know?"

Bucky nodded. He did know.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, until Peter broke it shyly. "I still think your metal arm is cool."

Bucky laughed. "Thanks, kid. Me too."

Peter reminded Bucky of Steve before the super-soldier serum, before he became Captain America. Talking to the kid gave him a pleasant sense of déjà vu and nostalgia. To Bucky, Peter was like another little brother to replace the one he had lost.

—

Peter tried to stand, but fell to the ground and groaned.

Bucky knelt down next to him, putting his hand on Peter's back. "Are you OK?"

Peter nodded. "It just hurts."

"What hurts? Are you alright?"

Peter turned and looked at Bucky. "Wait... you mean you don't feel it too?"

"Feel what?" Bucky's voice was laced with worry, which Peter couldn't help but feel grateful for. It was nice to know that someone cared.

"You mean... you mean it didn't hurt when you died?"

Bucky shook his head. "No... did it for you?"

Peter nodded. "Not too bad," he lied. "Just kind of felt like I was being ripped apart."

"You just contradicted yourself," Bucky said. "I'm so sorry that you had to go through that; it sounds awful. Is there anything I can do?"

Peter shook his head. "Thanks, though. It's getting better. I'm getting used to it I guess."

Bucky put his hand comfortingly on Peter's shoulder. He liked the kid already. He already thought of him like a little brother. And he hoped it would stay that way.

He knew it was selfish, he knew Peter had a right to know the truth, but he hoped Peter would never find out.


	2. chapter 2: knowledge

For what seemed like an eternity, Peter was trapped in the soul world. For what would equate to a year in the real world, Bucky was Peter's only company, before they found the others. They grew close, nearly inseparable. And Bucky would never tell Peter this, but he needed the kid just as much as the kid needed him. Peter was the first person in seventy years to look at Bucky like a big brother. And Bucky missed it. He loved Steve, but the serum had changed him. Even before he was Captain America Steve could be a bit of an asshole from time to time.

And Peter was strong. Strong, and not just physically. He had admiral emotional fortitude. Bucky could tell that whatever had happened to the kid in the past, it had broken him.

Both Peter and Bucky were broken. They both needed someone to lean on.

They both needed someone to fix them.

And they both needed someone to fix.

—

Peter woke up in an empty place. It looked like everywhere else in the soul world, but here there were no other people.

He turned around. Tony Stark walked up to him.

"Peter," he said, his voice broken but full of emotion. He pulled the kid into a tight hug.

Peter wrapped his arms around Tony's torso and put his head in his chest. Both of them had feared that they would never see each other again.

Tony ran his fingers gently through Peter's soft, wavy hair, holding back the sobs that threatened to choke him. "I'm so sorry, kid. I'm so, so sorry."

Peter pulled back gently and gave Tony a quizzical look. "What do you mean? You don't have anything to apologize for... I'm the one who's sorry."

Knowing that they could both go back and forth for hours about who had more blame and who deserved to apologize, he gave up and ruffled Peter's hair. "God, I missed you, kid. You're so annoying. I love it."

Peter laughed. Then the mirth faded from his face, replaced with a speck of fear in his eyes. "Mr. Stark... if you didn't disintegrate too then why are you in the soul world?"

A twinge of melancholy appeared in Tony's eyes. "You'll find out soon enough."

Tony put his hand affirmingly on Peter's back and swallowed. "There is something that you need to know. I should have told you long ago, but I wasn't sure it was my place. But I talked with Cap and he agrees that you have a right to the truth."

Peter was confused. What could he possibly need to know that was so confidential and important? "Ok," Peter said hesitantly. "What do I need to know?"

Tony hesitated, staring at the orange sky in front of him, wondering how to fit the words together. "I knew your parents," he said finally. Peter was left silent with shock.

"They worked with S.H.I.E.L.D. through the CIA."

"They never told me..."

"Peter," Tony said, voice heavy, "you know just as well as any of us that identity can be your greatest weapon. And that some secrets need to be kept, even from your family, for their safety. They were just trying to protect you."

Peter nodded.

Tony continued. "Richard and Mary Parker were some of the best in intelligence and counterintelligence; they had the respect of the whole field. They were in charge of a top secret operation which had information that was vital to S.H.I.E.L.D's termination of HYDRA. However, not everyone on the team was as passionate about their mission as your parents were."

Peter swallowed, fearing what was to come.

"There was a mole on the team. Told HYDRA that extermination was necessary to clear the imminent threat. HYDRA hired an enhanced individual to take them out."

And then a video started playing. Peter didn't know where it was playing from, but it was like the whole sky was a screen. And Peter sank down to his knees as he had to watch his parents get killed. The buried wounds from his childhood came flooding open because now he had to watch it and now it was so much worse. Tony knelt down on the ground next to Peter and out a had on his shoulder as a familiar face was shown on the recording.

"I'm so sorry to tell you this, Peter," Tony said, voice welling up with empathy. "But the Winter Soldier killed your parents."

And then Peter looked up at the sky screen one more time and had to watch as Bucky Barnes, his friend, whom he had actually thought of as a brother, shot two bullets, two little pieces of metal that would change Peter's life forever, right into the hearts of Richard and May Parker. And they fell to the ground, lifeless. And Peter saw it all.


	3. chapter 3: sorry

"Peter..." began a quiet voice behind him. Peter turned around and stared Bucky dead in the eyes. Bucky's hair was a little longer now, and he had the start of a beard on his face. But more than that, he looked older. Harder. More... _broken_.

Anger welled up within Peter as he stared at the man who now appeared as a cross between the man that he had grown to love like a brother and the hardened, emotionless super soldier who had ruthlessly murdered his parents.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Peter cried, anger pulsating through him, tears streaming down his face.

Bucky threw his hands up. "What was I supposed to say? _Hi Peter, nice to meet you, I killed your parents, want to be friends_?"

Bucky immediately regretted saying it. How could he snap at the kid at a time like this? Peter didn't deserve that.

Bucky sighed, holding back the tears that rushed to his eyes, pulling the anger back into himself, regaining composure, trying hard not to break. "Peter, I'm sorry. I'm so so sorry. I should have told you, I should have —"

He took a deep breath as he squeezed his eyes shut, running his fingers through his silky brown hair.

"It was so selfish. I'm so sorry." His words were soaked with emotion, and Peter could tell that he meant them. "But when I first met you, you were scared and you needed someone to be there for you, and I couldn't do that to you. And..." he swallowed. "I needed someone too. And Pete, you're like a brother to me. And I didn't want to lose that. I didn't want to hurt you any more than I already have."

And Peter could feel the emotion, remorse, and pain flowing from Bucky's words and it hit him like a stab in the gut. He shook his head, just the smallest shake, but it was more than enough to communicate the point. _I don't care. I don't want your apologies. I don't want you._

And he turned away, leaving Bucky even more broken than before.

Because Bucky knew pain, he knew loss, and he knew regret, but nothing hit him quite as hard as this rejection.

Because he knew that even though it wasn't his fault what the Winter Soldier had done, he had still lied to Peter for what would equate to a whole year. He had still hurt Peter and hadn't treated him how he deserved because fuck it that kid deserved the world, and Bucky hadn't complied.

And some things just can't be forgiven.

—

Peter shook his head, returning Bucky's broken unspoken plead with a hard, cold, and unforgiving gaze. He shook his head just a tiny bit, but it was more than enough. He could see the pain in Bucky's eyes but he turned around. Bucky had hurt him. He deserved this.

And when Peter turned away from Bucky, he was turning toward the person he least expected to see but needed most.

"Uncle Ben?" Peter's voice broke.

And the man smiled, that mischievous lopsided smile that Peter hadn't seen in years. "I missed you, Peter."

Peter enveloped his late uncle in a long-overdue hug. "I missed you, too." He rested his head in his uncle's shoulder, leaving wet spots on the man's shirt from his tears, but Ben didn't care.

Peter pulled back and glanced behind him, where Bucky had stood only a moment ago but now was nowhere to be seen. "Peter," Ben began, gently leading his nephew's face away from the empty landscape and back to him.

And then Peter began to sob. "Uncle Ben I'm so sorry. It was all my fault. I was right there and I had my powers and I should have stopped it I could have but I didn't and it's my fault and —"

"It's not your fault," Ben interrupted. "You may have had your powers but you didn't know how to use them. You couldn't have done anything. It is in no way your fault."

Peter wiped the tears from his wet cheeks and swallowed.

Ben put his hand gently on Peter's shoulder. "You know, deep down, that it wasn't your fault. And yet, you continue to blame yourself. You didn't tell May that you were there that night. Why not?"

Peter shrugged.

"I think you know," Ben insisted.

"Because I..." Peter swallowed. "Because I couldn't hurt her any more than I have already. I know it's unfair to her, but I... I can't..." he looked down. "I have to forgive him."

"You don't have to," Ben said gently. "But you know that it wasn't him. Sargent Barnes didn't kill your parents."

Peter pulled away from Ben's gentle grip. "Yes he did! I saw the video!"

"Peter, you're not listening to me." Ben adopted his stern tone and gently brought Peter's chin up to make eye contact with him. "Sargent Barnes did not kill your parents. The Winter Soldier did."

Peter looked back at the empty place where Bucky had just stood. He nodded.

"I know you're angry, Peter. And you have a right to be. But you also have a responsibility."

Peter looked back up at his uncle. " _With great power comes great responsibility_. That's what you told me, before you died."

Ben smiled. "Exactly. Peter, you and Bucky are very similar. You both have lost more than you deserve to have lost. And right now, he is in the same situation as you were a few years ago. It wasn't your fault that I died. No matter what you tell yourself, there's nothing you could have done. And it wasn't Bucky's fault what the Winter Soldier did. And just like you did, he beat himself up for it. Still does. You know what that's like. And you know what it's like to not want to talk about it, to not want to tell people that you've hurt them, because you've been there. You've been there but you got through it. And now it's your turn to help Bucky get through it, too."

Peter nodded. The anger welled up in his stomach had subsided. "Thank you Uncle Ben."

Ben smiled and ruffled Peter's hair. "I love you, Pete."

"I love you too."

And then Ben faded away.

And Peter turned around.

Bucky was there. And once again, he had changed. This time, he was looking not at 1940s Bucky Barnes, and not at the hardened Bucky, but at the Winter Soldier, the one he had fought in Berlin, the one that had killed his parents.

He walked forward. Bucky stood there, waiting to see what Peter would do this time. He wasn't expecting Peter to wrap his arms around him.

After a second's shock hesitation, Bucky hugged him back, pulling Peter closer to him with his real and metal arm.

"I'm so sorry," Bucky breathed, rubbing his thumb in circles on Peter's back. Peter just nestled into the embrace and sighed back, "it wasn't your fault."

And Bucky couldn't help but smile. Because he had messed up in the past. And he didn't deserve forgiveness. But Peter gave it anyway. And so Bucky held him closer because he had hurt Peter but the kid had come back to him and he needed someone to be there for him, and there was no way Bucky wouldn't be there for his new little brother when he needed him most.

Finally, Peter pulled away and this time when he looked at Bucky he saw not the Winter Soldier, nor the longer-haired, more hardened man, but the happy, young soldier in his World War II soldier's uniform.


	4. chapter 4: return

One moment, everything was normal.

The next, everything was quiet.

And then everything exploded.

And everything went black.

Peter couldn't see anything. He couldn't hear anything except a loud rushing sound. He remembered that documentary he had watched about wind tunnels and wondered if this is what they sounded like.

And he could feel the world slipping away underneath his feet. His stomach clenched and he could feel himself falling but there was nothing he could shoot with his webs and there was nothing he could hang onto and he was just falling and that's when the panic set in.

Pain crept its way through his limbs, starting in his toes and fingers, quickly making its way through his whole body. It was like Titan again but somehow worse. Because now it was faster and it quickly became far too much to handle. Peter's mind throbbed with dizziness and his thoughts were slurred and he wondered vaguely if he was dying or just passing out.

He felt a familiar hand grab his.

Bucky wasn't sure if Peter needed him or if he needed Peter. Probably both.

And when Peter's hand went limp, Bucky grabbed him and pulled him close. "I won't leave you," he whispered into Peter's ear, knowing full well that even if the teen were conscious, he wouldn't be able to hear anything over the overwhelming sound as they fell further and further into the unknown.

A blinding white light followed a crashing sound. Bucky squeezed his eyes shut, but they were still sore from the visual overload. He hadn't seen light in four years.

And suddenly his feet felt the ground. He opened his eyes. There was dust all around him. He looked at his body, which was slowly materializing out of the swirling, drifting debris in the stale Titan air.

Bucky couldn't feel anything. Everything was numb as he watched clouds of ash slowly come together to form his fingers and arms and body. He moved his fingers. They worked! He laughed with excitement, elated to feel his own warm breath on his skin. His real, actual skin. Heck, he was even happy to see this old metal arm again, if it meant he was alive.

Bucky sat up. "Peter." The name fell off his lips so naturally; he said it without even thinking and then it sunk in... Peter.

Where was he?

Peter?

Bucky stumbled forward, still dizzy. Everything around him was fuzzy and then a strong and familiar arm caught him.

"Bucky?" The broken voice whispered.

He blinked, clearing his blurry vision. "Steve."

And then Bucky's little brother who had long since outsized him grabbed him and pulled him into a long-overdue embrace. Bucky laughed, his warm breath tingling comfortingly against Steve's neck and Steve Rogers just held his friend tighter because my god he was alive it took four years but he was really alive he was ok and everything was going to be ok now.

Bucky could feel Steve's body shaking lightly and he knew his friend was crying but he pretended not to notice. Steve had been through too much. They all had.

And when they finally broke apart a minute later, the first thing to escape Bucky's lips was a hushed, wary question, "Where's Peter?"

"Peter? The spider kid?"

Bucky nodded and looked around. Finally, he saw the teen lying unconscious a few yards away. He rushed over, Steve following close behind him.

Peter was lying face up, his eyes closed. Bucky knelt down next to his little brother's lifeless body and helplessly grabbed his shoulder.

"Peter," he called, desperately shaking the teen.

No response.

"C'mon Pete, you gotta wake up."

Finally, slowly, he came to. "Bucky?" He spoke groggily, then sat up and fell into his friend's warm and strong embrace, laughing joyfully as he wrapped his arms around Bucky's back. "We did it," Peter said. "We won."

Steve looked in baffled surprise at the spectacle before him, the spider-kid and his best friend, a bro-hug like they were brothers, their chemistry sudden and unexpected but unsurprising. Of course Bucky would see Peter as a little brother. The kid didn't need protection any more than Bucky did, he could fend for himself just fine, but it made perfect sense that the two of them would find solace in each other.

Peter looked up at Steve and thanked him, knowing that it would never be enough to fully express his gratitude but it was better than nothing.

"Where's Mr. Stark?" he asked.

And Steve felt a cold hand clench his heart. Of course the kid didn't know. And of course he had to be the one to tell him.

Steve looked at Peter, pain in his eyes. "I'm so sorry, Peter. He died saving the world."


	5. chapter 5: alone

Peter walked into his dark bedroom, the one in the complex, the one that he assumed had not been touched in four years. He sat down on his bed, gingerly picking up the Spidey plushie that Mr. Stark had given him as a joke years ago. Tears began to flow down his face. He didn't even bother to wipe them away. He didn't care. He didn't care about anything. Not anymore.

He wished he could go back in time. He wished he could stay in the soul world, oblivious to the fact that while the world had been saved, his world had just ended. He wished he could stay dead if it meant Mr. Stark would stay alive.

But it was too late.

And he sobbed, knowing that what was lost would be lost forever.

And there was nothing he could do.

A blink of white light interrupted him and caught his attention.

A flicker kept his focus. The light was coming from his wall.

And then the wall lit up. How did he not notice this whole time that the entire wall had been a screen?

And when the wall lit up, it lit up into a video.

A video of Mr. Stark.

"Hey, kid," he said affectionately, sadness hidden behind his eyes. "If you're watching this, it means that you made it back from Titan. It also means that I did not. And kid, I'm glad that you're alive, even if it means I'm not. You're capable and you've got your whole life ahead of you. You're going to do great things. You're a better man than me and probably smarter too. I know you'd argue with me on that if you could, but you can't, so that automatically means I'm right."

Mr. Stark cleared his throat and ran his fingers through his hair.

"There's a few things I need to tell you, Pete. The first thing is this: don't blame yourself. Please, please don't blame yourself for any of what happened. None of it was your fault, I promise. You're a lot like me, kid, and I know that like me, you have a tendency to internally take responsibility. Please don't do that this time. We both know what it's like to live in the guilt of another man's death. That is a heavy load to bear and it's not one you deserve to carry. So please believe me when I tell you that none of this was your fault.

"Second. I can not believe I'm saying this, but I hope Cap is OK. I think you two will get along really well, if you try. He really wants to get to know you, kid. I think you should give him a chance.

"The third thing is the most important. Peter, you may not biologically be my son, but you are my kid. I really care about you, and I trust you more than almost anyone else in my life. And you have so much potential, and I know you're going to do great things. That's why I'm leaving you half of my company and money. You are now a multibillionaire, Parker. Don't waste it. Don't be like me. But I know you won't be, because you're better.

"Point number four. Your identity. Now, you know as well as I do that identity is a powerful thing, not something to be wasted. But, people might be a little suspicious if a random kid inherits a huge sum of wealth a famous billionaire. That being said, you are documented as my intern, but on paper we don't have any further connection than that, and an internship doesn't seem like quite a good enough reason for someone to leave that much money to somebody. It's entirely up to you, but if you want to, now might be a good time to tell the world who you really are. May can stay in the Avengers complex, which you now pretty much own anyway. And if you have a girlfriend - or a boyfriend, or whatever - they can stay there too. So that wouldn't be a problem, they'd be safe. I've already told the other Avengers that when you're ready they can have a press conference and finally introduce the world to Spidey. But only if you're ready.

"And that brings us to our fifth and final point. The Spider-Man suit. As you know, I've found refuge from my anger and anxiety in building superfluous extra suits. And recently, I've been more anxious than I think I've ever been before. Well, I know I'm not gonna live for much longer, so I don't know what a shitload of suits is going to do for me. So anyway, if you go down to my lab, you might see a couple new suits that I made for you. And I've left instructions on how to build more and how to change them, but you don't need them. I'm sure you'll figure it out just fine and within two days you'll be hacking them and making them so much cooler than I ever could. I know you.

"And Peter, most of all, I just want to tell you that you meant the world to me. And I'm not the only one who cares about you. Be safe. You're not a child anymore, in fact you're an adult now. You can drink. You can drive. Preferably not at the same time, but I know how it goes. And I wish more than anything that I could have been there for you during those years. I wish I could have come to your graduation, congratulated you on getting into college, helped you study (not that you'd need it), seen you grow up... i wish I could have been there for you, kid. But at least you're alive. And that makes it all worth it. So, don't waste time on me; go out there and change the world."

Peter watched the video three more times, and then realized that the wall TV also contained thirty more videos, all of which Tony had made during the years that Peter had been gone. Not many of them had much information; most of them were just to update him on how the war was going and tell him about Pepper and Morgan, who was now three years old.

One of the videos was to tell Peter about how Tony had known his parents and how because of that, he felt responsible for Peter, how he felt party responsible for Richard and Mary's death and would do whatever it took to keep their kid alive too, why he wanted Peter to be one of the Avengers and work with him just like his parents had but also felt responsible for him and didn't want anything to happen to him, why he was so eager to recruit Peter but so insistent on keeping him safe and giving him the best technology available. And, surprisingly enough, in that video, Tony told Peter not to blame Bucky. Because, as Tony had learned over the past few years, it wasn't Bucky's fault.

Tony told Peter about how his father had left him messages after his death, and he wanted to do the same thing but do it better, because he would be a better dad than Howard even after his death. And Tony reminded Peter about all the voicemails and texts he had left Tony and the vlog he had made in Berlin, how he listened to, read, and watched them all over and over, wishing he had responded while he still could. How they had helped him get through some of the toughest times. "And hopefully these videos will help you, just like you helped me. Because I may not be there, but you have these videos, and you can know that you'll never be alone."


	6. chapter 6: you'll never be alone

In the morning, Peter ventured into the closeset kitchen to his bedroom. It was one he had been to often, one that was frequented by all of the Avengers, since it was directly adjacent to a shared common room that the team often met at, and it was close to their bedrooms.

He let his mind go numb as he mindlessly made a waffle, until he suddenly realized how hungry he was, which made complete sense considering his heightened metabolsim and the fact that he hadn't eaten in four years.

Just as he was finishing his fifth waffle, Pepper Potts walked into the room, her hair sloppily pulled back and her face void of makeup. Peter had never seen her like this. It was nice, in a way, to see her without her public image, to remind him that even though she ran a company and was, like, one of the coolest people ever, she was just a normal person. And she was broken, too. And Peter didn't feel ashamed for being seen like this, a mess, wearing grey Iron Man sweatpants with a red tee shirt. "Hi," he said after swallowing the last bite of waffle. He wasn't expecting her to pull him into a hug, but it was not an unpleasant surprise.

"I'm so sorry," he said, to which she replied, "So am I. But I'm glad you're ok."

"Thank you, Mrs. Potts."

"Please, call me Pepper." She pulled a glass out of the cabinet, put it under the faucet, and watched it slowly fill with water. "I'm also glad the company is in good hands."

"About that," Peter started. "I don't think..."

"Tony was originally going to leave half of it to me and the rest to you and Rhodey, but we convinced him against it. We don't need the money."

"But the company... I've never even had a real job. I haven't been to college. I have no idea how to run a company. And I don't feel right taking this money."

Pepper turned the faucet off and smiled at him. "Don't worry about that. We'll teach you everything. See, Tony was going to leave the company to one of us, but... we're not young anymore, whereas you've got your whole life ahead of you. Rhodey and I are going to help you run the company, so by the time we can't do it anymore, you'll be a pro. But you'll always have us for guidance. You'll never be alone."

 _You'll never be alone._

That's what Tony had told him.

Maybe if enough people told him, he'd start to believe it.

But after his parents died, that fear was like a little seed in the bottom of his gut, and when Uncle Ben died it grew and now that Mr. Stark was gone too it was too big, and it felt like it was never going to go away, just always grow and always choke him and one day devour him.

"About school, you can apply to MIT any time - you'll surely get in - and we'll take care of everything while you're gone. And you don't have to feel bad for taking the money. Tony wanted you to have it. It will be automatically transferred into your bank account so you have nothing to worry about. And I know you'll use it well."

"Thank you," he said. And then a thought popped into his head. How had this not occurred to him until now? "What about Morgan? Mr. Stark mentioned her..."

"Yes. She's four now, but when she comes of age she will inherit the other half of Stark Industries. Hopefully you won't mind sharing the company with her."

"Not at all."

"Oh, perfect timing!" Pepper exclaimed as a young girl ran into the room and grabbed onto her mother's leg. Pepper picked up the girl. "Do you want to hold her?"

"Sure!"

"Can Peter hold you?" She asked Morgan, who nodded and looked up at Peter.

Morgan dark eyelashes and dark brown hair like her father and green eyes and a small nose like her mother. "She looks like him," Peter said. "And like you."

Pepper nodded and smiled sadly, handing Morgan to Peter gently. The little girl immediately clung onto him tightly.

"She likes you!" Pepper exclaimed.

Pepper and Peter stood there for a few minutes with Morgan, talking and laughing and hiding their pain. Peter noticed Bucky and Steve walking into the common room adjacent to the kitchen and sit down. Giving Morgan back to her mother, he dismissed himself to join them.

"Hey Peter," Steve said without looking up as he sorted Uno cards on the table. "Want to play?"

"Sure," Peter said, taking a seat. "There's actually something I wanted to ask you, both of you, if that's ok. If not that's fine —"

"No, go ahead," Steve said. "What's up?"

Peter swallowed, debating how to articulate the thought that had been throbbing at the back of his mind ever since he had come back.

"How did you do it?" Peter asked finally. "After you came out of the ice? I only missed four years and still I... I feel like everyone is expecting me to be an adult but I'm not. I don't feel twenty-one, I feel seventeen. I've never even had a real job, I only just got my drivers license, and now I'm expected to run a company? I just don't know how to do it, I don't know how to fake it. It's like a whole chunk of my life is missing and I don't know how to get it back."

Steve put his hand on Peter's shoulder comfortingly. "In my experience," he said, "the best thing to do is what you just said: fake it. It might seem like a cop-out answer, but I don't think it is. If you fake it long enough, it's going to become real."

Peter nodded, still unsatisfied.

Bucky added, "You're going to have to fake it for the press and the public, especially if you decide to tell the world about your wall-crawling alter-ego, but you'll never have to fake it with us. We'll always be here for you and you'll never be alone."

 _You will never be alone._

Peter forced a smile. "Thanks. And, Bucky, thank you. Thanks for being there for me when no one else was." And then another thought occurred to him. Oh shit. "I've got to go see my aunt."

"Want me to give you a ride?" Cap asked, but Peter responded, "Thanks, but I can walk. Or swing or whatever."

—

After changing into jeans, Peter swung down to his apartment in Queens. He hoped May hadn't moved.

When he finally arrived at the building, he was overcome with nostalgia and déjà vu. Peter pressed the button and the receptionist clicked on the speaker. "Name?"

"Peter Parker."

The doors immediately buzzed in. "Mr. Parker?" The woman at the desk said. "I haven't seen you in _years_... Is everything OK?" Then a thought occurred to her. "Oh. Were you one of the ones to... who..."

Peter nodded. "Can I go up?"

"Of course, dearie. Would you like me to notify your aunt that you have arrived?"

"Uh... no, that's ok. Thanks."

As he walked up the stairs, a million thoughts ran through his head. What would she think? What would she say? Would she be mad? She deserved to be really mad...

And then he was at the door.

He hesitated. But he didn't know why.

And then he knocked. The special knock that only he and his aunt and uncle had used.

And then he waited.

The door opened, slowly.

And May was there. Her eyes were wet with tears.

"Peter?" The sound barely escaped her lips and then she pulled him into a hug and was crying into his shoulder and he was crying too and she hadn't seen him in four years but here he was and he was alive and he was ok and that was all that mattered.

And after a few minutes she pulled away.

"Peter, where the fuck have you been?"

"I'm so sorry May. I was in space and then-"

"Hold on- you were in _SPACE_? Like, _outer space_?"

"Yeah, and then I kind of disintegrated."

"You disappeared from your school trip and after a few hours Ned fessed up but then we didn't hear from you for days and then weeks and _four years_ Peter you were gone for _four fucking years_ and Tony refused to admit you were gone, he kept saying they were going to get you back but they never did and then Tony died and then everyone else came back but I didn't hear from you and oh my god Peter I missed you so much don't you ever do that again."

"I won't, May, I promise. I missed you, too. But there's some things I need to talk to you about."

"Ok, go ahead."

He hesitated. How to say it?

"I don't really know how to tell you this," Peter admitted. "When Mr. Stark died he left half of his money and half of Stark Industries to me."

"I'm sorry, _what_?"

Peter relayed to her his conversation with Pepper and the video Tony had left for him.

"I think it's time for me to reveal my identity," he said after finally finishing.

May nodded. "It's up to you."

"I never wanted to do it before now because it would put you in danger. You can move into the Avengers Compound, as Mr. Stark mentioned in the video. And if you don't want to do that, you could also just get any house you want, I mean, we have plenty of money."

May smiled. "Thank you, Peter. But you don't have to worry about me. I just want what's best for you."

And so Peter decided that it was time for the world to finally know the man behind the mask.


	7. chapter 7: no need to hide

After The Dust, Ned stopped taking care of himself.

He lost weight.

Lost his motive.

Because Ned had always struggled with self-esteem. He always worried that he didn't have a purpose.

Being the guy in the chair had given him that.

And when that title was stripped away, when he lost his best (and only) friend, he lost that sense of worth.

Ned finished high school, but considered dropping out every single day. School was no longer fun. Not without Peter. He went to school and got made fun of and had no one to get made fun of with. He went home and did homework and had no one to text, no one to talk to, no one to build LEGOs with, no one to watch Star Wars with, no one to gush to about his theories on the newest nerd things.

He was alone.

Ned didn't go to his own graduation. He had planned to feign sickness but it turns out he didn't have to try very hard.

Because if Peter couldn't go to graduation then why should he be able to?

Ned went to the the California Institute of Technology to study computer science. His scores got him in, and he wanted to get as far away from New York as possible.

He thought that maybe he could escape the pain.

But it turns out, you can never escape pain.

You can run, but it will always find you.

It will always come back, always stronger.

And it will always be stronger than you.

He couldn't get away. But he tried anyway.

If he couldn't have his old life back, he wanted to start over.

To make new friends, and pretend that he didn't once have the best friend in the world, pretend that he didn't once know Queens's favorite web-slinging superhero, pretend that he could go a day without thinking about that quirky kid who didn't deserve to go up in ash but did anyway, pretend that he wasn't broken inside and pretend that he didn't break a little more every day.

But faking it could only take him so far.

Peter was gone.

And there was nothing he could do.

And when Ned was a senior in high school, he debated applying for a job at Stark Industries.

But he decided he wasn't ready.

Not yet.

It had been nearly four years but it was still too soon.

And then the world changed again.

And this time, it changed for the better.

Because it was like The Dust again but this time, all the people who had fallen apart were pieced back together.

And he hoped — he tried not to hope because he didn't want to be disappointed but he still couldn't help hoping — that Peter would come back too.

But an hour went by. No word.

A day went by. No word.

Two days. Still, nothing.

And so, that speck of hope that Ned had always had inside of him that let him believe that maybe he's ok and maybe someday he would see him again, it disappeared. Just like Peter.

And, just like Peter, he knew he was never getting it back.

And so when his phone received an incoming call from Peter's phone number, he didn't let himself hope.

Some things are too good to be true.

But still, he picked up immediately.

"Hello?"

"Ned?"

And then there was a pause, in which Ned forgot how to breathe.

Because Peter was there, on the phone.

The friend he'd thought he'd lost was back. Peter was ok. And maybe Ned would be ok too.

"Peter oh my god I missed you so much you have no idea are you ok?"

"Hey Ned I'm fine. I'm just... glad to be back."

"Dude I thought you were dead. I... I missed you _so much_."

"FRIDAY told me you're in California... are you OK?"

"It might sound weird, or stupid, I dunno. I just... thought if I couldnt drown out the pain then maybe I could run away from it, ya know? I just wanted to start over, to go somewhere where nothing reminded me of everything I'd lost."

And when he said "everything I'd lost," peter could read between the lines.

 _Reminded me of you, Peter._

 _Of you._

 _Because I lost you._

 _And you were everything._

 _And when I lost you, I lost me, too._

"That doesn't sound weird at all,. I've spent the past 17 years doing that exact same thing, ever since my parents died."

Peter and Ned talked for hours. They told each other everything that had happened. Peter told Ned that he was considering revealing his identity, and Ned encouraged him. Ned, who was finishing his last year in college, decided to move back to New York after graduating and apply for a job at Stark Industries. Because unlike Peter, Ned no longer had pain to run away from.

—

When Peter finally hung up several hours later, he sat on his bed quietly. And the longer he stayed there, the more he allowed his brain to start thinking again. The more he thought, the more he wanted to just stay hidden there forever or disappear. He pulled out his phone and watched the video he had made in Berlin. And his heart ached. He wished he could go back to that time, be innocent again, be happy again. To get back that feeling of freedom he had had when he was fifteen, before he had died and woken up with a million responsibilities. And most of all, he wished he could see Tony Stark again.

But then Peter began to feel guilty for wishing. Tony hadn't been his father, or even a distant relative. He had just been some famous billionaire who probably didn't even care about Peter. He was just a liability for Tony, just a responsibility. Peter didn't deserve to miss him, didn't deserve to mourn him. It was so selfish of him.

"Peter!"

The voice startled him out of the daze that was wrapping itself quickly around him, asphyxiating him and shielding the world from his view.

It was Bucky.

"Peter, it's ok. I'm here."

"What—"

"You were having a panic attack." Bucky sat down next to Peter.

"I'm sorry," Peter said, the guilt of it hitting him. Bucky had better things to do then help Peter with his ridiculous weakness.

"Don't apologize. I get them, too."

"Wait, really?"

Bucky nodded. "I've been meaning to ask you," he began, changing the subject, "what's the hand sign you do when you shoot webs?"

Peter showed him. "The two fingers in the middle go down because there's a button on the palm my web shooter. I don't really know why I put the other fingers up; it just feels right, I guess. Like I'm pointing or something."

Bucky smiled. "Have I ever told you that I know American Sign Language?"

"Whoa, seriously? That's so cool!"

Bucky nodded. "In ASL, you can make letters with your hands to spell words or names." He pointed his pinky finger up. "This means I," He made an L with his pointer finger and thumb, saying, "This is L, and this is Y," he put up his pinky finger and thumb. "And if you combine those three letters," he formed his metal hand into the signature hand sign that Spider-Man used, "it means 'I love you'."

Peter smiled, studying the hand sign. "Huh, I didn't know that."

"Just remember that, Peter. People are going to try to use you, especially after you reveal your identity. You have a lot of power, and people are going to try to utilize that for their own benefit. Don't let them. Always remember that no matter what happens, Spider-Man is not about power or money or social aggrandizement. Spider-Man is about love."

—

A few minutes after Bucky left, Peter got up and walked into the common room where the Avengers would be having a meeting. As soon as he sat down between Bucky and Steve, a man whom Peter immediately recognized as Clint Barton spoke up. "So you're Stark's kid?"

"Well, not biologically..."

"You'd think you were, though, the way he talked about you," Natasha claimed, then added, "So you're the spider guy."

Peter nodded. "How did you know that?"

"I'm a spy, Peter. Besides, Stark told us. And he also told us to let you join the team and reveal your identity when he dies, if you're ready."

Peter nodded. "I am."

The Avengers asked Peter about his life and he told them about how his parents had died when he was young and he lived with May and Ben, how Ben died right around the time when Peter got his powers and about how he felt responsible, how he had made a suit out of red and blue sweats and black goggles and how Tony Stark had found him and recruited him and given him an upgrade. He told them how he was there in Berlin, about his adventures as Spider-Man, and that he disintegrated on Titan. A few of the other members of the team confessed that they had known his parents, and they asked if he knew how they died. He said yes, and subtly, so that the others wouldn't notice, he squeezed Bucky's real hand, as if to say _it's ok; Spider-Man is about love, not about grudges._ And they welcomed him to the team.


	8. chapter 8: revealed

The Avengers set up a press conference for the next day, claiming that it was for an important announcement.

All day, Peter was nervous. He couldn't help but think am I sure I want to do this? What if it goes badly? I can never undo something like this...

But he knew he had to go through with it.

And so, half an hour before, Peter put on his suit. He chose to wear the Iron Spider suit he'd worn on Titan, even though he still had the original suit from Berlin and the other suits Tony had made while Peter was in the soul world.

"So, let's get this straight. " Steve said, leaning on the wall outside of the room where the conference was to take place, in his full Captain America costume; he had sort of unofficially become the head of the Avengers since Iron Man's death. "We're all going to walk in," he gestured to the group of people in front of him, which consisted of Thor, Wanda, Vision, Natasha, Bruce, Sam, Clint, Rhodey, and, of course, Peter, "were gonna say some stuff, tell them that Spider-Man is joining the Avengers officially, and then Peter's gonna come up and answer some questions?"

"Let's make it more dramatic than that," Clint debated, turning to Peter. "You could drop in from the ceiling, do a couple of flips, pull off your mask and spin around, maybe?"

Peter looked at him skeptically. "Don't the flips seem a little over-the-top?"

"Nothing is over-the-top," Clint responded. "And if it is, you need to make the top higher."

"That doesn't make any sense," Thor stated confusedly.

"Nothing he says makes sense." Natasha shifted on her feet, glancing passively at the silver watch on her wrist. "I think it's about time. Are you ready?"

Peter nodded. "Let's do this."

* * *

The Avengers walked into a room full of reporters and immediately the room lit up with camera lights and was filled with clicking sounds and lots of people talking over one another, clamoring to get a better view and shouting and hoping to be seen or heard. The team made their way to the center of the front of the room and faced their audience.

Steve Rogers, who had been previously volunteered as the leader of the press conference, stepped forward to the microphone.

"As you all know, we are here today to make a very important announcement regarding the Avengers team, which currently consists of all of the people you see before you. The masked superhero known as Spider-Man, who has fought many battles by our side and done his own in Queens, is officially joining our team."

Steve gave Peter a subtle nod.

Peter looked out at the crowd of people in front of him, instantly overwhelmed. What would they think?

The flashing lights.

The sounds.

It was all too much.

No, Parker. Not now. Don't have a panic attack right now.

And Peter swallowed back his fear and stepped forward, carefully leaning in to the mic.

"Hello everyone," he began, trying to keep his voice from shaking. Why was he so nervous? He'd done stuff like this before, he'd given presentations. You've fought gods and titans, Peter, you can handle this, he told himself. He took a deep breath and began. "As you all know, I've kept my identity a secret for many years now, and today, that will finally change. As a superhero, my job is to protect the people, and the people have a right to know who I am." Peter reached a hand behind his neck, grabbed the back of his mask where it connected to his suit, and pulled it off gracefully. Immediately, cameras snapped and people began to talk but as soon as Peter spoke into the microphone again, they all went silent.

"My name is Peter Parker, and I have been Spider-Man since I was fifteen years old."

And then the commotion began.

Everyone was yelling, taking pictures, asking questions, trying to be heard, trying to be seen.

For years Peter had longed to say those words, wondered what were to happen if he did. And as he watched the room light up in excitement in front of him, he couldn't help but wonder, now what?

He watched, overwhelmed, as photographers shoved each other out of the way to get a better angle, as reporters yelled over each other to get their questions heard by him.

"How did you get your powers?" A man with a gruff voice yelled from the crowd.

"I was bitten by a spider," Peter answered warily. "The spider had been exposed to radioactivity of some sort and its proportional strength was transferred to me. I engineered the web shooters and fluid using pieces from an old computer I took apart and various chemicals."

"How does it feel to be the youngest Avenger?" a woman shouted.

"Honestly, it's great to be a part of such an amazing team. Everyone is really supportive. I'm really lucky to have such great friends."

"Are you the mysterious recipient to whom Stark left half of his company?"

"Yes, I am," Peter responded, and immediately a million more questions were being shouted at him.

"What was your relation to Tony Stark?"

"Uh, I'm not related to him," Peter admitted. "He recruited me six years ago, gave me an upgraded suit and helped me in my journey to become who I am today. He was my mentor, and he was like a father to me." Peter immediately regretted those words. What if Tony hadn't felt the same way to him? Mr. Stark didn't deserve to have some random kid saying that in front of hundreds of cameras and reporters.

"Why did you come a superhero? What was your motive?"

Peter's mind suddenly flashed back to when he was fifteen years old, sitting on his bed, trying not to freak out that the Tony Starkwas in his room and that somebody knew his identity. "I gotta know. What's your motive? What gets you out of that twin bed in the morning?" Peter had hesitated, not wanting to tell a stranger his feelings of underlying guilt regarding his uncle's untimely death. But Peter was different now. His time in the soul world had changed him. He was ready.

Peter cleared his throat. "After my parents died, I went to live with my aunt and uncle. Right after I got my powers, when I still didn't know how to use them, my uncle was killed in front of me. I was fifteen at the time. And even though I know there was nothing I could have done, I still can't help but feel responsible for his death. Now I know how to use my powers. And I know what it feels like to lose someone, and I don't want other people to go through that." He took a deep breath. "Because I have these abilities, I have a responsibility to help people, to use them to do good. Because now there is something I can do, and I have to do it."

* * *

Peter fell onto the nearest sofa, one hand gripping his Spider-Man mask so tightly that his knuckles went white under the suit, the other hiding his face. He felt the couch gently sink next to him as Pepper Potts sat down cautiously.

"I don't know why I said that," Peter began. "About him being like a father to me? I didn't have a right to-"

"That's because he was," Pepper said. Peter looked over at her, taking his face out of his hand. "What do you mean?"

"He told me that he thought of you like a son. He wouldn't build a multi-million dollar suit for just anyone. And all those safety features? I mean, 'baby monitor protocol'? You're definitely his kid. He said so himself. That's why he left you half of the company."

Peter absentmindedly picked at the skin on his fingernails, avoiding eye contact. "I can't stop feeling guilty," he said cautiously. "I mean, you're his wife. You have reason to mourn. But I don't even have any relation to him, I'm just an intern."

"Peter," Pepper began, "when Tony came back from Titan, he was different. Broken. Watching you die, that changed him. No matter what you tell yourself, he cared about you. And for him, losing you was like watching his own child die in his arms. He grieved for you, and fought to get you back. You can grieve for him. And while you may not be able to get him back, you can fight in his memory. You're an Avenger. You can avenge."

Peter smiled. He formed his right hand into the Spider-Man web-slinging sign and studied it. I love you. Spider-Man was about love. But he wasn't the only one capable of it.

"FRIDAY, any news on the press conference?" Pepper asked finally. The screen in front of them lit up, showcasing dozens of articles illustrating Spider-Man's press debut, online posts, blog articles, tweets, and reactions in just about every form imaginable.

"All of the responses are, in fact, positive," the voice of FRIDAY responded, her metallic voice echoing throughout the room and in Peter's head.

Positive.

People were pleased with him.

He'd made the right decision.

He swiped through the thousands of images and videos and recordings popping up on the screen. There were photographs of little kids in tiny Spider-Man costumes. First-hand accounts of people who had been positively affected by the masked man's heroics. Interviews with authorities. Approval. Admiration. Aspiration. Inspiration.

Spider-Man had been there for the people when they needed him.

And now, they were there for him, too, when he needed them the most.


End file.
